Story: WildDreams
Chapter: "Olive's Discovery"
By Mark Thorne
It felt like one of those grey mornings. No matter what sort of toys you had, or what book you read, or what game you played, the day just couldn’t help but be grey. Especially in this house. 997 Yale Avenue. A distinctly new England mansion, built with all the proper rules and manners a house of it’s size required. But such a castle, to a young wondering mind, only made a day greyer.
Little Olive Silvertear, no more than eight years old, an age where everything was real, no matter how extraordinary it might sound, sat at her window, staring out at the grounds around the stately house. Her parents were gone off to their high-end jobs for the day, her brother taking his time studying his miniature library, and the servants taking care of their respective jobs.
This was no way to start a off summer, now that she was home again from her year-long boarding at a prestigious school.
She sighed heavily, and turned from the window and scanned the room for the fifth time. All her dolls, stuffed animals, dresses, storybooks, and games sat idly in their places. None could amuse her today.
Then she remembered it. A shimmer of hope passed through her memory in a flash that brought new meaning to her homecoming.
Her secret garden.
Ever since she read the book, she fantasized about having a secret world all her own in which she could play and explore.
As luck had it, she had discovered one. About a year or two ago, she had stumbled across an old wood and iron door at the edge of the yard. It was nearly hidden then, by thick ivy, but it still opened up to the other side of the wall. It was past this door that she found the garden. It was long forgotten, for the house on this side of the wall had been abandoned ages ago, and now sat as a silent guardian over the neglected and overgrown rose garden behind it. It was here that Olive had found her secret world, one that she dared not tell anyone about, but spent all her summer days playing in it‘s wilderness and imagining it as it used to be when someone lived there.
That was her plan now, to revisit the old garden and discover what had changed in the year of her absence.
Now, getting out into her yard was an easy trick, for, the Silvertear children were known for being well behaved, and no one expected them ever needing watching. So Olive had no trouble walking out into the sun drenched yards and around the bend of trees and bushes that lined the back wall.
There was the door. Just as it always had been. She turned and gave a gentle farewell to her home, as was custom when one is leaving their homeland for another world, and then grasped the old rusted door ring, giving it a firm push.
Now, imagine a little girl’s imagination when the world she had played in for so long, a world she remembered filled with overgrown plants, rotted walkways, broken fountain, collapsed gazebo and dying roses, in which she imagined day after day was alive with flowers and animals and had every perfection a garden could possibly have is no longer there. Instead, the garden was suddenly replaced with lush and maintained greenery, bright red and gold rose blossoms, and the sweet trickling of a clean fountain surrounded by fresh stone walkways.
Her garden was waiting for her. It had known she was returning and blossomed for her when she did. Her heart nearly leapt out of her small chest. At first she stepped lightly, fearing that it was a dream, and that if she ran, the dream would end. But as she was reassured that this was indeed a real and living garden, she ran up and down the paths, stopping to smell the new flowers, greet the birds in the trees and to watch her reflection in the clear waters of the fountain.
“A fairy must have done this…” she said quietly to herself, feeling the cool water with her hand. Of course, that was the only logical explanation as to what had happened. “A fairy had watched me! She must have known what I wished for, and, and,… and she made the flowers bloom!”
With a new song in her heart, she skipped happily across the garden and paused to explore the shaded gazebo.
Inside it was cool and dim, with comfy seating all around. And on the seat sat a tray filled with a cup and saucer, some cookies on a small plate, and a teapot was a mysterious fragrance (she‘d later find out that it was filled with Chai tea). Not yet thirsty, nor hungry, Olive decided to simply sit and marvel at how her world had welcomed her home.
That’s when she heard it.
It was a scraping sound, coming from behind the gazebo, followed by a deep and unfamiliar groan. At first she was frightened, for her imagination was so stimulated that it could have been anything from a unicorn or griffin, to a panther or tiger, or even some unknown monster that only a child could think of that was just waiting for it’s prey to skip around the corner.
She sat still for what felt like ages, barely daring to breath. But after a while, the echo of the noise that rang in her ear was slowly replaced with the gentle and sweet melody of the garden. She waited still, breathing a little easier, and waited to hear it once more. But no sound came.
She slowly brought herself out of the gazebo and peered around it’s corner.
And it is here that she had stumbled upon the most amazing discovery yet.
A man.
One she never knew of or seen anywhere on the street or even at home when her parents had guests for dinner. His arms were brought behind his head to cushion against the rear of the gazebo, while one leg was propped up and rested across the knee of the other, and his chest bobbing slowly for he was sleeping soundly in the shade of the gazebo. He looked young, but still much older than herself, with a wiser, but still mischievous look to his face. His skin and the look of his face made her think of an Indian Rajah (although, she had only seen picture books of these, and had little idea as to what a “rajah” really was), but instead of a beaded and jeweled turban, his head was covered in bright, ruby red hair that crawled down his back in a neat and thick braid that was long enough to touch the ground and lie down for several inches.
She clutched her dress with tight fists.
“A fairy… KING!” she whispered quietly, her mouth agape at the sight. Suddenly, her mind was ablaze with new ideas and dreams. A Fairy King! In her garden! Was this his new palace? Was that why it was so lovely now? Would he let her stay? Would he even like her? She should do something for him!
But what?
She studied the man for a while and finally decided on what he had been missing. A crown. A proper crown for a fairy king to wear had to be made of what grew in his home territory. And luckily, to Olive’s delight, she was one of the best at weaving flowers and grass and leaves into fashionable creations suitable for any princess, pixie or even a Fairy King!
So she set out across the garden and gathered up the best blooms, and longest pieces of grass and set herself down under a tree and carefully wove one flower into the next…
He had forgotten what time it was, or that he was even napping in the first place. But he stretched his arms out wide over his head, leaning on the wall of the gazebo as a long and deep yawn escaped his mouth.
And then it fell over his eye. He paused, slightly stunned at the unexpected object, and stared at what appeared to be a leaf of grass hanging over his head. He brought his hand up and tugged on the grass, causing a ring of flowers to fall into his lap. A flower crown, with grass points. It sat there innocently as he stared at it, confused as to where it came from. He began to chalk it up to one of Mark or Alex’s pranks about his naps.
Then he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a little girl skipping away across the garden and to the wall that ended that side of the property. She disappeared into the ivy, and he heard the creaking of rusted iron shutting as the ivy waved at the movements behind it.
“Who was she?” he mumbled, lifting up the flower crown and looking it over. He concluded that she had snuck into the garden and made him the crown while he slept. A faint smirk crept over his face, for he found the thought of being a companion to someone without waking up amusing, and reminded him of his naps back home, with his sister…
Mrs. Silvertear had settled down at the large desk and set her laptop up to check the numbers once more before she could relax for the evening. She had always been a busy woman, and preferred everything to be in it’s correct place before she could even think of relaxing a single muscle.
But her concentration seemed split this evening. From the top of her laptop she could glance down at her little girl who was spread about on the den’s rug, coloring away at various pieces of paper. Usually, she would be informed about the day’s adventures by her daughter the instant she walked through the door, as was custom for her return home every night. But tonight she didn’t.
“Sweetie, how was your day?” she ventured to ask.
At this Olive leapt up and rushed to her mother’s side, her eyes filled with excitement. “Mommy! I found the Fairy King!”
Chapter: "Olive's Discovery"
By Mark Thorne
It felt like one of those grey mornings. No matter what sort of toys you had, or what book you read, or what game you played, the day just couldn’t help but be grey. Especially in this house. 997 Yale Avenue. A distinctly new England mansion, built with all the proper rules and manners a house of it’s size required. But such a castle, to a young wondering mind, only made a day greyer.
Little Olive Silvertear, no more than eight years old, an age where everything was real, no matter how extraordinary it might sound, sat at her window, staring out at the grounds around the stately house. Her parents were gone off to their high-end jobs for the day, her brother taking his time studying his miniature library, and the servants taking care of their respective jobs.
This was no way to start a off summer, now that she was home again from her year-long boarding at a prestigious school.
She sighed heavily, and turned from the window and scanned the room for the fifth time. All her dolls, stuffed animals, dresses, storybooks, and games sat idly in their places. None could amuse her today.
Then she remembered it. A shimmer of hope passed through her memory in a flash that brought new meaning to her homecoming.
Her secret garden.
Ever since she read the book, she fantasized about having a secret world all her own in which she could play and explore.
As luck had it, she had discovered one. About a year or two ago, she had stumbled across an old wood and iron door at the edge of the yard. It was nearly hidden then, by thick ivy, but it still opened up to the other side of the wall. It was past this door that she found the garden. It was long forgotten, for the house on this side of the wall had been abandoned ages ago, and now sat as a silent guardian over the neglected and overgrown rose garden behind it. It was here that Olive had found her secret world, one that she dared not tell anyone about, but spent all her summer days playing in it‘s wilderness and imagining it as it used to be when someone lived there.
That was her plan now, to revisit the old garden and discover what had changed in the year of her absence.
Now, getting out into her yard was an easy trick, for, the Silvertear children were known for being well behaved, and no one expected them ever needing watching. So Olive had no trouble walking out into the sun drenched yards and around the bend of trees and bushes that lined the back wall.
There was the door. Just as it always had been. She turned and gave a gentle farewell to her home, as was custom when one is leaving their homeland for another world, and then grasped the old rusted door ring, giving it a firm push.
Now, imagine a little girl’s imagination when the world she had played in for so long, a world she remembered filled with overgrown plants, rotted walkways, broken fountain, collapsed gazebo and dying roses, in which she imagined day after day was alive with flowers and animals and had every perfection a garden could possibly have is no longer there. Instead, the garden was suddenly replaced with lush and maintained greenery, bright red and gold rose blossoms, and the sweet trickling of a clean fountain surrounded by fresh stone walkways.
Her garden was waiting for her. It had known she was returning and blossomed for her when she did. Her heart nearly leapt out of her small chest. At first she stepped lightly, fearing that it was a dream, and that if she ran, the dream would end. But as she was reassured that this was indeed a real and living garden, she ran up and down the paths, stopping to smell the new flowers, greet the birds in the trees and to watch her reflection in the clear waters of the fountain.
“A fairy must have done this…” she said quietly to herself, feeling the cool water with her hand. Of course, that was the only logical explanation as to what had happened. “A fairy had watched me! She must have known what I wished for, and, and,… and she made the flowers bloom!”
With a new song in her heart, she skipped happily across the garden and paused to explore the shaded gazebo.
Inside it was cool and dim, with comfy seating all around. And on the seat sat a tray filled with a cup and saucer, some cookies on a small plate, and a teapot was a mysterious fragrance (she‘d later find out that it was filled with Chai tea). Not yet thirsty, nor hungry, Olive decided to simply sit and marvel at how her world had welcomed her home.
That’s when she heard it.
It was a scraping sound, coming from behind the gazebo, followed by a deep and unfamiliar groan. At first she was frightened, for her imagination was so stimulated that it could have been anything from a unicorn or griffin, to a panther or tiger, or even some unknown monster that only a child could think of that was just waiting for it’s prey to skip around the corner.
She sat still for what felt like ages, barely daring to breath. But after a while, the echo of the noise that rang in her ear was slowly replaced with the gentle and sweet melody of the garden. She waited still, breathing a little easier, and waited to hear it once more. But no sound came.
She slowly brought herself out of the gazebo and peered around it’s corner.
And it is here that she had stumbled upon the most amazing discovery yet.
A man.
One she never knew of or seen anywhere on the street or even at home when her parents had guests for dinner. His arms were brought behind his head to cushion against the rear of the gazebo, while one leg was propped up and rested across the knee of the other, and his chest bobbing slowly for he was sleeping soundly in the shade of the gazebo. He looked young, but still much older than herself, with a wiser, but still mischievous look to his face. His skin and the look of his face made her think of an Indian Rajah (although, she had only seen picture books of these, and had little idea as to what a “rajah” really was), but instead of a beaded and jeweled turban, his head was covered in bright, ruby red hair that crawled down his back in a neat and thick braid that was long enough to touch the ground and lie down for several inches.
She clutched her dress with tight fists.
“A fairy… KING!” she whispered quietly, her mouth agape at the sight. Suddenly, her mind was ablaze with new ideas and dreams. A Fairy King! In her garden! Was this his new palace? Was that why it was so lovely now? Would he let her stay? Would he even like her? She should do something for him!
But what?
She studied the man for a while and finally decided on what he had been missing. A crown. A proper crown for a fairy king to wear had to be made of what grew in his home territory. And luckily, to Olive’s delight, she was one of the best at weaving flowers and grass and leaves into fashionable creations suitable for any princess, pixie or even a Fairy King!
So she set out across the garden and gathered up the best blooms, and longest pieces of grass and set herself down under a tree and carefully wove one flower into the next…
He had forgotten what time it was, or that he was even napping in the first place. But he stretched his arms out wide over his head, leaning on the wall of the gazebo as a long and deep yawn escaped his mouth.
And then it fell over his eye. He paused, slightly stunned at the unexpected object, and stared at what appeared to be a leaf of grass hanging over his head. He brought his hand up and tugged on the grass, causing a ring of flowers to fall into his lap. A flower crown, with grass points. It sat there innocently as he stared at it, confused as to where it came from. He began to chalk it up to one of Mark or Alex’s pranks about his naps.
Then he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a little girl skipping away across the garden and to the wall that ended that side of the property. She disappeared into the ivy, and he heard the creaking of rusted iron shutting as the ivy waved at the movements behind it.
“Who was she?” he mumbled, lifting up the flower crown and looking it over. He concluded that she had snuck into the garden and made him the crown while he slept. A faint smirk crept over his face, for he found the thought of being a companion to someone without waking up amusing, and reminded him of his naps back home, with his sister…
Mrs. Silvertear had settled down at the large desk and set her laptop up to check the numbers once more before she could relax for the evening. She had always been a busy woman, and preferred everything to be in it’s correct place before she could even think of relaxing a single muscle.
But her concentration seemed split this evening. From the top of her laptop she could glance down at her little girl who was spread about on the den’s rug, coloring away at various pieces of paper. Usually, she would be informed about the day’s adventures by her daughter the instant she walked through the door, as was custom for her return home every night. But tonight she didn’t.
“Sweetie, how was your day?” she ventured to ask.
At this Olive leapt up and rushed to her mother’s side, her eyes filled with excitement. “Mommy! I found the Fairy King!”
